Nobody's Angel (28 page)

Just looking at his mouth made Susannah want to kill him. Again she grabbed her runaway temper by the tail and strove for icy dignity.

"You are a thorough-going villain,' she said, her voice cold and precise. "You are a cad, a knave, and a scoundrel. A mongrel dog has more morals than you. A cat in heat has more shame. A hawk on the hunt has more pity. I saw you kiss Mandy, and I know that one reason you did it was to get back at me. But Mandy is only seventeen years old, and she is a total innocent! If you had any conscience at all, you would leave her alone. But of course you don't, do you? Then let me tell you this, Ian Connelly, and I hope you mark it well. If I ever again have the slightest reason to believe that Mandy, or Em, or Sarah Jane for that matter, is at risk from you, I will go straight to my father and tell him all that has occurred between us, so that the shame of it is out in the open. I will then sell you to Georges Renard, who is the wickedest reprobate in these parts, and all without telling you what I have done. Then, when Mr. Renard comes to haul you away in chains, I shall laugh. And make no mistake: I mean what I say with all my heart. I will not allow my innocent little sister to make the same mistake I made with you."

"Your 'innocent little sister' could give you lessons, sweetheart," Ian said, and smiled at her. It was a slow, coarse smile, and it struck tenor and something else, something far more primitive and base, clear down to Susannah's soul.

"Are you telling me that you—that Mandy . . ." Words failed her. Ian's smile widened, and his eyes took on a mocking glint.

"A gentleman never tells," he said. "And you of all people should know that I am, above everything else, a gentleman."

"You are a black-hearted swine!" Susannah hissed, having lost her grip on her temper.

"But then, we both know you have a weakness for swine, don't we?" he said. He reached out, chucked her under her chin, and walked past her to head, presumably, for the barn, before Susannah could recover enough to reply.

Fists clenching, Susannah glared after him. How it was possible to hate so intensely a man who'd taken her to heaven and back only a few days before was impossible to fathom. But hate him she did, so much that the taste of it was as tangible as bile in her throat. But to stalk after him and pound him with her fists, or a handy rock, or a ripped-from-the-wall-of-the-barn board was beneath her dignity. Besides, it would do no good at all. He was far bigger than she, and he would relish the chance to subdue her with his superior strength. Instead of attacking Ian, she needed to talk to Mandy. If his hint had any basis in fact, then the dilemma confronting her now was nothing compared to the trouble she faced.

If Ian Connelly had lain with her sister, then something would have to be done. An arranged marriage? Susannah couldn't even consider that possibility without feeling sick- on several counts. First, Mandy was far too good for the likes of him. Second, the scandal of such a marriage would be even greater were lovely, eligible Mandy the bride than it would be with her on-the-shelf, less-than-lovely self in the role. And third, Susannah would be sick unto death every time she saw, or even pictured, the two together as husband and wife.

Much as she loved her little sister, much as she hated the blackguard who claimed to have seduced them both, she could not deny the fact that Ian Connelly, cur that he was, was the one, the only, man she had ever wanted for herself.

Mandy could not have him! But neither, a small voice of reason insisted, could she.

The first thing to do, of course, was seek out Mandy and discover from her the truth of the matter. Ian Connelly lied as naturally as he breathed.

Still, Susannah was deathly afraid. Feeling as if her feet had turned to lead, she turned and walked toward the house.

Sarah Jane and Em were on the back porch washing up. Like Susannah, they were dirty and sweaty, with their bright cotton dresses sadly crumpled and stained and their hair falling around their faces. Ordinarily it would have amused Susannah to see fastidious Sarah Jane, in particular, so disheveled, but she was not, at that moment, in the mood to laugh.

"Where's Mandy?" Susannah asked, tight-lipped.

"She went up to her room to change." It was clear from Sarah Jane's frown that she knew something was amiss. It was equally clear from her manner that she had not observed that embrace on the hill. "Is there something wrong?"

Susannah made some innocuous rejoinder and went in pursuit of Mandy. She wanted no witnesses for the conversation she meant to have with her erring sister.

Mandy was in the large front room she shared with Em, struggling to pull the green silk dress off without dislodging the pins. Her head was lost somewhere inside the bodice, and it was clear that she was not aware of Susannah's entrance.

Without a word Susannah moved to help her, grasping the waist and deftly easing the voluminous skirt up and over without catching Mandy's hair, skin, or underclothes on the pins. Talking to Ian, Susannah had been furious, but, now that she faced her well-loved little sister, the fury was all gone. Fear had drained it right out of her. Instead, she felt curiously removed from the situation, like an observer rather than a heartsick participant.

"Mandy, I am going to ask you something, and I hope you will tell me the truth. Just how far has this—thing— between you and Connelly gone?"

Mandy looked guilty. To one who knew her as well as Susannah did, the signs were unmistakable. Her lids fluttered and dropped, she swallowed almost imperceptibly, and the rose of her cheeks darkened an infinitesimal degree. Subtle signs, all, but Susannah read them and went cold.

As an obvious delaying tactic, Mandy reached for the dress of figured cambric that lay on the bed behind her and pulled it over her head. Automatically she presented her back to her sister, and just as automatically Susannah began to fasten the gown. When Mandy spoke at last, it was over her shoulder: "What do you mean, how far has it gone? How far do you imagine it's gone?"

"Have you—been intimate with him? 'Tis for your own well-being that I need to know."

"Susannah!" Mandy's shock at the suggestion was not feigned. Susannah knew her sister well enough to know that. She felt a peculiar easing of the hard knot that her insides had become, and a great sense of relief for Mandy's sake as well. Her fingers found the last hook, joined it to the corresponding eye. With the dress fastened, Mandy had no further excuse not to turn toward her sister.

"Whatever made you think such a thing?" Mandy asked. Though she might be innocent of the direst charge, Mandy was guilty of something. What it was, Susannah did not know, but the signs of an uneasy conscience did not evaporate; Mandy twitched a fold of her skirt into place and did not look at Susannah as she spoke.

Susannah regarded her, unsmiling. She had raised Mandy from a child of five and knew the slightest nuance of every response of which she was capable. The mother-love she had always felt for Mandy was still there, but so was a new realization of her little sister as a woman grown —and a rival. Mandy was lovely; Susannah knew she was not. Mandy was charming, in an engaging, innocent way that knocked men over like bowling pins. Mandy was al- luring, so alluring that she could have her choice of nearly every available man in the county.

But she could not have the man Susannah wanted.

Jealousy was a sin, and sick, gnawing jealousy toward one's own sister was a greater sin. But Susannah couldn't help the way she felt. Despairing, she realized that Ian Connelly, the bounder, the villainous cur, had somehow managed to insinuate himself into her heart and would not be cast out. Like the victim of a demonic possession, she was locked in a fierce battle to regain control of her heart and soul.

The worst part of it was that the man who inspired all this tribulation wasn't in love with either her or Mandy. He had used and manipulated them both for his own obscure ends, whatever they might be.

Like herself, Mandy was being made a fool of by their bound man. But unlike herself, Mandy at least had the excuse of being only seventeen years old.

"I saw you kissing him, on the rise." Even putting it into words was difficult. Susannah had to struggle to banish the too-vivid picture from her mind. Remaining detached was the only shield from pain she had left, and she clung doggedly to it. "You know as well as I do that what you did goes far beyond the bounds of what is permissible with any man, and especially with him. We made an agreement, you and I. You were to behave yourself with Connelly, and I would let you go to the Haskinses' party. You've broken the agreement."

"Are you saying you won't let me go?" Mandy's eyes widened, and her voice grew suddenly shrill.

Susannah nodded unhappily. "I hate to deny you the treat, but playing such games with Connelly is dangerous, and . . ."

Defiance blazed in Mandy's eyes. "I will go to that party, and you can't stop me! You're only my sister, Susannah, not my mother, so you may as well stop acting like what you're not! I will go! And if you think to tell Pa about Connelly and have him stop me, you'd best think again. Because if you tell on me, then I'll tell on you, and I'll wager you've more to hide of your relationship with our bound man than I do!"

"Mandy!" Susannah was shocked. Mandy's sherry-brown eyes blazed brightly at her, then brimmed with tears.

"I mean what I say," she insisted. Snatching up the green silk gown, she ran past Susannah toward the door. "And you needn't think I need you to finish my dress, either, because I don't! I'll do it myself!"

Susannah was left with her mouth open and her hand partially raised to stop her as Mandy clattered down the stairs.

27

"Miss Redmon! Miss Redmon!"

"Shut your mouth, you little bastard, or by God I'll shut it for you!"

"Mr. Likens! No! Think what you are doing! Susannah! Susannah, come quick!"

Susannah was halfway down the stairs when the commotion began. The last cry was Sarah Jane's, and it sounded urgent.

Grabbing her skirt up out of the way, Susannah bolted down the stairs and out the back door as if her petticoat were on fire.

The scene that met her eyes froze her for no more than an instant. Jeremy Likens had obviously been running to her for assistance. His father had come after him, had caught him just past the henhouse, and was now, with a fist in Jeremy's straw-colored hair, dragging him screaming back up the hill. Sarah Jane, with Mandy and Em behind her, was fluttering about the foot of the path where it started up the hill, yelling at Likens to let the boy go but obviously too fearful of the man to intervene physically.

At last Susannah had a target for the wrath that had been building inside her for days.

"The devil take you, Jed Likens!" she said furiously. Mindful of what had happened the last time, when she had thought to hold Likens at bay with the fowling piece, she snatched up another weapon instead—the stout broom that leaned in a corner of the back porch. Then she charged up the hill.

"Susannah, be careful!" Sarah Jane cried as Susannah rushed past her.

"I'll go get Ian!" Mandy said, and ran to do so.

"Hurry, Susannah! He's hurting Jeremy!" Em screamed, and she and Sarah Jane fell in behind her. Angry as she was, Susannah barely noticed that she had reinforcements.

"Miss Redmon! Miss Redmon! Help me!" Jeremy was sobbing. His father shook the boy by the hair like a dog with a rat in its teeth.

"Shut up! Shut up!" Likens dragged the flailing boy on, lifting his feet practically clear of the ground.

"Jed Likens, you let him go!" Susannah was closing fast.

"Damn you, church woman, you stay out of this!" Likens glared ferociously at Susannah over his shoulder and shook Jeremy again.

"Let him go! At once, do you hear?"

"He's my boy! I'll do what I please with him! You just keep your old cat nose out of it!"

"Miss Redmon, he done killed Ma this time!"

"Shut your mouth, boy! Shut your mouth, I say!"

"Let him go, Mr. Likens!"

"I'll be damned if I do!"

"I've no doubt you'll be damned anyway, Jed Likens," Susannah said grimly, coming up behind them at last.

Gritting her teeth, she reversed the broom so that the soft straw pointed toward her and brought the handle, solid oak with a three-inch circumference, down hard on Jed Likens's back.

"I'm gonna kill you for that, you goody two-shoes bitch!" he screamed, releasing Jeremy and whirling. Susannah whacked him again. Sarah Jane and Em screamed.

"Run, Jeremy!" Jeremy did run—toward his father as Jed Likens sprang at Susannah. Susannah beat him furiously about the shoulders with the broom until Likens managed to grab the staff and wrest it from her hand. Sarah Jane and Em screamed again, Likens smiled an evil smile, and Jeremy leaped on his father's back as Likens swung the handle at Susannah's head.

Susannah ducked, throwing up an arm. The stout stick caught her arm just below the elbow. Susannah saw stars. She cried out at the pain of it and, stumbling, fell down.

"Stop it, Pa! Stop it!"

Likens reached around, caught Jeremy by the shirt collar, and threw him viciously to the ground. He lifted the handle high again to deliver the coup de grace to Susannah.

"Susannah!" Sarah Jane and Em screamed in unison and leaped forward to grab Likens by the arms. He knocked both of them aside. Sarah Jane fell on her backside, and Em fell forward onto her knees. Susannah was already struggling to rise. . . .

"I'll learn you to interfere with what don't concern you!" Likens snarled, and swung the stick in a furious, swooshing arc at Susannah's head.

Susannah threw up an arm, ducked, and screamed. So did Sarah Jane and Em.

But the blow never fell.

"You've made a mistake, Likens. A bad mistake," a gravelly voice said, and Susannah looked up to find Ian standing between Likens and herself, one hand holding the staff, which he had caught in mid-swing. Susannah sagged, bracing both hands against the ground to keep herself from collapsing. Never in her life had she been so glad to see anyone as she was to see Ian.